To Forgive
by TamariChan
Summary: Triathlon series centered around the love of Kel and Lerant, in different incarnations. / Close Your Eyes: They are not the kind of couple that says "I love you." / Amor: Lerant is emotionally repressed, but that's okay. / Victory: All he wanted was his rightful place. All she wanted was respect. Now, they don't know what they want.
1. Close Your Eyes

**Disclaimer: The world and characters of Tortall belong to Tamora Pierce, not to me.**

 **Written for Triathlon at Goldenlake, for the Just In Jousting.**

-:-

Kel and Lerant never write letters, never say the words "I miss you." She's a knight, he's a soldier, and they know the rules. It goes, day by day, the colors of love and loneliness. And today, the desert is searing them bright white.

There is no dramatic reunion. They don't jump into each other's arms. Lerant clasps Kel's arm, scarred and muscled, the touch a reminder of another time. She smiles into his eyes. The tents billow in the wind, the flapping sound taking away the words Kel whispers. Perhaps that's for the better.

They disappear in the dunes for hours. Against the grit and heat of the sand, her skin is cool silk. Clouds float in the azure sky above them, casting shadows, moving more slowly than their breaths.

When he traces his finger over her collarbone, there is no need for words.


	2. Amor

**Disclaimer: The world and characters of Tortall belong to Tamora Pierce, not to me.**

 **Written for Triathlon at Goldenlake, for the 400 word cross country.**

-:-

Love, love, love. Lerant should think that when he sees Kel.

But they aren't that couple, and maybe what they have isn't love. When Lerant sees Kel's face, he thinks of hard-earned respect. Her smile reminds him of the glow of true friendship. And her body, truth be told, sparks in him a raw desire.

So, the age-old question: what is love?

No one has ever told him what love is. He should know. Where can he look, to see it? His parents tolerate each other, barely. Raoul and Buri were comrades first, just like he and Kel were, but he can't tell if they have love or just something very close.

He doesn't tell Kel his doubts. But then again, they never say lovey-dovey words. Her hazel dreamy eyes might conceal anything, from doubt to bitterness, and he'd never know. Unless he asked… but he's Lerant, so that's not likely to happen.

He acts like he knows what he's doing, and she goes along with it. They are the perfect couple, holding hands in the garden, riding through the forest, sparring in the practice courts. She curls up beside him at night and breathes deeply, evenly. They are happy, or at least they are chasing happiness.

He asks her once. Lerant doesn't have the guts to ask the big questions, but he will ask the little ones. "Are you happy?"

"Right now or in general? But yes. I am. Aren't you?" Kel looks up at him through sweaty bangs.

He smiles weakly, and he tells the truth. "When I'm with you, I think I am." And isn't that crazy? An Eldorne, happy? Could an Eldorne be in (dare he say it?) real love?

"I'm glad," Kel says sincerely. She takes his hand and kisses his callouses, the bruises on his knuckles, and the lines of his palm. Holding it against her face, she smiles back at him. "You deserve to be happy."

He doesn't, he knows, not the way she does. Kel is brilliant, compassionate, courageous, selfless. They sing ballads about her in the streets. She deserves to be happy. But he's just a kid from the hills, from disgrace, pulling himself up by the bootstraps. Helping people in the Own is the only selfless thing he's ever done.

Lerant strokes her wrist and forearm, traces his fingers along her scars. "You deserve the world, Kel."

This is love.


	3. Victory

**Disclaimer: The world and characters of Tortall belong to Tamora Pierce, not to me.**

 **Written for Triathlon at Goldenlake, for the 110 word hurdles.**

-:-

He stood too close. He might be beautiful, she thought, were it not for the twist of his lips and the clench of his fists.

"Let it be." She didn't step back.

He smiled, but it wasn't a nice smile. "Do I ever?"

He gripped her shoulder and his nails dug in. Her hands twisted in his hair, pulled tight, like a punishment.

It was the game they played. Once, services to Raoul were the stakes. Now, they were just seeing how far they could fall, how deep they could go, before permanent damage was done to their bodies or their hearts.

Nobody ever won, or maybe they both did.


End file.
